Asleep and Dreaming
by Atalanta Pendragonne
Summary: Slash NnyTeatime. DiscworldJohnny the Homicidal Maniac crossover by way of the Stolen Time RP & fic universe. Teatime drugs Nny to engage in a bit of somnophilia.


It had worked perfectly.

The sleep draught was stronger than they'd used previously. Teatime had been able to tell almost immediately that it was working just as the shop clerk had claimed it would; Nny hadn't even set down the vial before his face had gone slack and he'd slumped onto the bed, his breathing slow with a hint... or really, more than a hint... of a snore.

i His /i Nny. Just his. And right now, all for him, all to touch in the ways he wanted, the ways that would make him feel good, in ways that would be selfish if Nny was awake. He could always make it up to him later, after all. Crouching beside him, Teatime trailed his fingertips lightly down Nny's face, feeling the eyes behind their closed lids, the narrow lips and sharp chin, then down his throat, that slender vulnerable place. He cupped Nny's larynx in his hand and felt his pulse beat beneath his fingers briefly before letting his hand drift further, tracing the prominent collarbones and thin chest as if only just learning their contours.

"You i will /i understand, won't you? When you wake up. I wouldn't have done this if I wasn't quite sure you'd understand." Teatime spoke softly, even though he knew that Nny was, for all intents and purposes, unwakeable. It seemed as if it had to be said, even if Nny wouldn't be able to respond. He kissed Nny's lips almost chastely (the tender moment marred somewhat by a particularly noisy snore) before rolling him onto his belly. He marveled again at the peaceful laxness of Nny's sleeping form, a stark contrast from his usual bowstring-tension and restless mobility. In a way he i was /i relearning Nny; learning his stillness. Teatime ran a finger down his spine, the bony knobs of vertebrae so close to the surface. There was no rush, no sense of urgency.

No rush, no, but the i wanting /i was there. Teatime pressed his forehead between Nny's shoulder blades, breathing in his scent, warm skin and a faint trace of turpentine. He kissed the nape of Nny's neck, stroking his back again, the sallow skin flecked with scars as familiar as his own by now. Nny had fewer scars than Teatime, but the ones he did have were larger and more irregular. They'd figured it out, of course; Teatime's prey was more likely to be armed with a knife and have some idea how to use it, Nny's to haphazardly wield improvised weapons.

Nny's skin. The thought of Nny's frenzied rage and savage glee in killing, the way he moved... Nny always said he liked seeing the way Teatime moved, and it was not altogether one-way. No sense of urgency? That was no longer the case. He wanted to thrust into Nny, wanted to feel that hot, welcoming clench... and just as there had been no need to rush, there was no need to wait.

A hasty application of lube, and Teatime grasped Nny's hips, pushing into him with a rough grunt and a feeling of as much relief and pleasure. "Mine, mine, mine," he chanted under his breath, biting Nny's shoulder and feeling a moment of vague surprise at his lack of response, then laughing at himself. Of course Nny was too deeply asleep to respond. And it was so sweet, the simplicity of it, no need to think, to attend to Nny as well as himself... just motion and sensation and he didn't even realize it, didn't notice he was speeding up, barely realized that his orgasm was rapidly building until it swept through him and he cried out and slumped, cheek pressed against Nny's back, panting. So fast, it had been so fast and still, that was fine.

But now they were both all sticky, and that wouldn't do. Standing, Teatime scooped Nny into his arms a bit awkwardly, and staggered to the bathroom under his dead weight. Propping Nny up in the bathtub, he started filling it before sliding in himself. He lay still for a long time, half-drowsing, holding Nny's head above water, only moving to add more hot water when the tub cooled. Eventually, Teatime washed them both carefully. He even took the time to wash Nny's hair, propping his head in the crook of one arm and lathering the shampoo with his free hand, before draining the tub and drying first himself and then Nny with a large, fluffy towel.

Nny started to stir faintly on the way back from the bathroom. Excellent, excellent. Teatime laid him carefully on the bed and crouched over him, licking and kissing his neck. He smelled of i clean /i now, traces of soap and shampoo and nothing else. "I did say I'd make it up to you, didn't I?" Teatime crooned softly, just as if Nny was fully awake and could hear him. He trailed his way down Nny's throat and chest, pausing to bite his nipples sharply.

"Nnnh!" Roused, Nny cracked an eye open and peered groggily at Teatime. "Not. Not so hard." He sneezed. "Why is there soap in my nose?"


End file.
